


Phosphorus is Hesperus

by Thelittlescrimshaw



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: Angst, Drama, Dreams, F/M, Fluff and Angst, I am shameless reylo garbage, Romance, Sexual Tension, Smut, dream! Ben Solo, flangst, mid burn?, not incest until proven guilty bandwagon, three shot, villain with a crush, yOU NEED A TEACHER! Kylo
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-26
Updated: 2016-11-22
Packaged: 2018-06-04 15:05:22
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 17,995
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6663535
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Thelittlescrimshaw/pseuds/Thelittlescrimshaw
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Rey is more like Kylo than she likes to think.<br/>.</p><p>"We're not so different, you and I."</p><p>It was then, after countless encounters, that Rey realized this was his sick version of flirting.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is gonna be completed in...three, four chapters, tops. Electrocauterization is still my baby, but these short lil smutty fics are so much fun.
> 
> NB: Phosphorus and Hesperus are both names for Venus, which isn't even really a star :p

 

It began with that first fight on that icy hell-planet.

_“You need a teacher!”_

Or perhaps it began before that, in the interrogation chamber.

_“We’ll see.”_

Or even,

“ _Don’t be afraid. I feel it too.”_

Regardless of its beginning, Rey knew that it continued. Often, he’d hunt her down; other times, they’d find themselves in battle.

It’s been six months, and Rey cannot say what they do in this maddening game of dancing, but she knows that eventually it will come to a head.

* * *

 

He holds back against her; she knows this as much as she knows that she cannot kill him. She can slash at him, scar him, beat him within an inch of his life, but there is something inside of her that knows if he dies, she will too.

“Your technique is too tight,” he sneers at her as their sabers clash. “And you’re too weak to outmuscle me.” He pushes with his saber, _hard,_ and Rey, resourceful as she is, kicks him in the shin.

Rey snarls and leaves the battle determined to strengthen herself, no matter how many pushups it takes.

* * *

 

“You _dodge_ too much,” he grits, even as she lands a hit on his thigh. He swings his saber, and of _course_ she’s going to dodge – he’s a big, big, man, taller than her by nearly an entire foot and has at _least_ sixty pounds of lean muscle on her. Rey has been training, getting stronger every day, but her frame is wiry, not hulking, and at twenty there is no chance of her having another growth spurt.

He forces her on the offensive, twisting and turning and dodging her every attack. He retreats, swings sloppily, inviting an attack. She snarls and rushes him, jumps over his saber as he tries to land a blow to her shins, and in response uppercuts him right in the jaw.

* * *

 

“You have so much _potential.”_ he tells her, leaning in close. They are on Jakku, inside an old crashed airship, panting and bleeding, the both of them. He is behind her, saber held inches from her chest, breath hot on her neck. “But you’re not even _scratching the surface._ Don’t _ask_ the Force to do something. _Command_ it.”

And Rey promptly commands the Force to slam Kylo Ren, nee Ben-Organa-Solo, into the cold, steel wall.

It was then, in that small, horrified moment, that she realized he _had_ been teaching her.

* * *

 

The next time they meet, it is she who hunts him down.  She knows she catches him by surprise on a small, tropical planet: his mask is off and if the decimated clearing around him is any indicator, he has just finished a more complicated lightsaber form.

“This ends now,” she grits, teeth bared, saber at the ready. “I’m done being your – your _guinea pig.”_

He looks genuinely confused, and way young, the way his hair falls into his face. “I’m afraid I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“You – you’re _teaching me!”_

A corner of his mouth twitches. “Is that so terrible, Rey?”

“From you? _Yes.”_

He frowns, then, and if Rey didn’t know better, she’d say he looks disappointed. He clicks his saber to life and assumes a battle stance. “Let’s see what you’ve learned, then.”

And they battle. He corrects her form, urges her onward, forces her into more and more complicated forms to keep up with him. When she makes to retreat, to run, he uses the Force to grab her ankle and trip her, causing her to fall on her face.

Rey rolls over and there he is, looming over her. He calls her saber to his hand, and there it is, she is done for, Kylo Ren will _kill her –_

-but he leans down on one knee and touches a gloved hand to her cheek. “So much potential,” he murmurs. In his distraction, Rey jackknifes to her feet, calling her saber back to her. Kylo’s up like a whip, ready and waiting.

“Clever,” he says, with a small smile. “I wonder what you’ll do next.”

 _“Stop,”_ she grits. “I’m done with this.”

Kylo Ren shrugs and unclicks his saber. “As you wish.” He sits down and gestures for her to do the same.

Rey stands there, confused.

“Do you – not want to sit?” he asks, and for the first time in the six months she’s known him, Kylo Ren looks unsure of himself. “We can – stand. Or sit somewhere else. My ship…”

And then it dawned on Rey that this was his sick form of _flirting._

* * *

 

The sexual tension is building; soon, Rey will no longer be able to ignore it. Ever since that night, Rey cannot look back on their battles and not see the clues. She cannot believe how _oblivious_ she’d been. She does not know what to make of it, does not know how to even approach it.

That night, she dreams, and _of fucking course_ he is there.

She is in her bedroom at the Resistance Base: it is private, Spartan, and decidedly _hers._

_So why the fuck is Kylo fucking Ren invading it?_

But no, it is not him – is it? Here he is Ben Solo, she thinks, or what Ben Solo could have been: skinny wrists and big hands, no scar marring his features, no Darkness cloaked around him. He is undressing in her room as if he belongs there, as if it is _his room_ and not _her room,_ and even folds his clothes and puts them on the dresser.

When he turns to her, he is wearing soft cotton pants and nothing else. He smiles, and that smile is so full of joy, as if Rey was something special, and it inadvertently warms her heart.

She looks down at herself, wondering if she is really _Rey,_ skinny scavenger runt. She is wearing a long tunic and nothing else, not even underwear, but somehow, she does not feel violated. In fact, somewhere, deep in her belly, she wants to take her clothes _off._

Kylo – Ben – whoever it is, smirks as he approaches her. Rey feels herself heat up under the gaze and squirms against the feeling.

He leans down to kiss her, and there is something so _right_ yet so _sinful_ about his mouth, and she lets out a startled gasp when he drags his teeth across her lower lip.

“It’s been too long,” he mumbles against her neck, peppering kisses all down her pulse line until he hits that sweet spot, right where her neck meets her shoulder. “I’ve missed you terribly, Rey.”

Her hands are all over him. He is soft skin over lean muscle, shapely collarbones, broad shoulders, big hands. He kisses her again, holding her to him. Rey wraps her legs around him, hugging him, and he lowers her to her back. The bed is larger than she remembers having, but that hardly registers as he props himself up on his elbows and looks down at her as if she’s worth more than all the gold in the galaxy.

“What?” she asks him, not unkindly.

A small, closed-mouth smile. “I like looking at you.”

Rey leans up and crushes her mouth to his, running her hands through his hair. He responds in kind, and rolls so she is on top of him. She straddles him, rolling her hips against his, and finds herself satisfied that his arousal is evident.

He gets his hands up underneath her shirt, skimming them down her sides, cupping her bottom, and, just as she leans over to bite his neck _(bite, specifically, not kiss, he likes teeth – but how does she know this?)_ he palms one of her breasts and she gasps. He chuckles at this, and Rey, irritated that he’d find her pleasure _amusing,_ sets to work. She grinds against his erection and sinks her teeth into his neck, biting and suckling so there will be purpling marks in the morning. He moans against it, tugging at her tunic. She removes it with his help, and when his gaze falls upon her, Rey thinks she will burst.

 _“Beautiful,”_ he whispers, and leans up to kiss her _everywhere._

When his mouth finds her breast, she makes a small, keening sound in the back of her throat and fists her hand into his hair.

When his long, thin finger slips inside of her and hits a spot she didn’t know she had, she nearly cries out.

He still has his pants on – something that she is _not_ okay with – but right now she is on her back and squirming, mewling in pleasure, trying desperately not to scream but then he _presses a thumb to her clit_ and she’s bucking underneath him, coming undone bit by bit –

Rey wakes up, covered in sweat and shaking from the white-hot memory of her dream. She hops out of bed and tears the sheets from it. They’ve been soiled, as far as she’s concerned, dream or no.

She hops in the ‘fresher and scrubs herself raw, desperate to forget.


	2. Chapter 2

Weeks pass, unmarred by his presence. But the dream has had Rey on edge, has pushed her to her limits; Finn can tell, worry etched into his face. Rey can’t help but smile at his mothering – she loves Finn, she really does. And Poe, too. They’re both loyal and loving, and Poe may be a bit of a jackass sometimes, but his heart is gold.

Rey’s time is divided between training with Luke and aiding the resistance. She is to depart for Ahch-To tomorrow, on the _Falcon_ with Chewie. The trip there is what she’s most excited for; she loves the Wookie, she really does, and she knows he likes her as much as Han did.

 _Han._ She remembers the old smuggler with a pang.

Later that day, Leia asks to speak with her.

Rey has come to respect the older woman. She didn’t click with her as quickly as she had with Han, but the woman had a backbone made of iron and a wit to match. She talk to Rey, sometimes, about Luke, or the Force, and sometimes even Kylo Ren.

It looks like the latter is what she’s going to be discussing.

They trade small talk, walking aroud base, before Leia turns to her and says, “I know you’ve seen him. Ben.”

And Rey nods – what else can she do? “I run into him sometimes, when I go off-world to meditate. The battles usually end in a stalemate.”

Leia stops and looks at her with impossibly sad, impossibly understanding eyes. “Be careful, Rey. He is not the boy I thought he was.”

The words that go unspoken – _I didn’t think he’d kill Han, he’s gone now, truly gone –_ echo in the silence between them.

“I – he wants to teach me,” Rey says, and the words fall out before she can refine them. “I – every time we meet. He doesn’t try to kill me. He _corrects_ me. He wants me to join him, I think. But I won’t Leia, _I won’t.”_

Just as Leia had known that Rey had seen her son, she knew that Rey wouldn’t go to the Dark Side. Leia was force sensitive, just like Luke; while not a Jedi, she had an uncanny ability to read people.

“I know you won’t, child,” Leia says. She brings up a hand and touches Rey’s cheek. “Your mental fortitude is greater than that of myself, my brother…or my son. I know you won’t succumb to the Dark Side. Don’t feel like you have to keep your encounters with Ben from me. I would rather there be honesty between us.”

“Of course, General.”

And she smiles. “I wonder where his agency begins and Snoke’s influence ends,” she mused aloud.

To that, Rey had no answer.

“I think,” Leia said at length, “That it’s you.”

Rey shakes her head. “I’m not – _no._ ”

Leia’s smile is wan, and knowing. “There was a prophecy, once, that someone would usher in balance to the Force. They thought that it was Vader. Then, Luke. I’m sure Ben likes to think that it’s him. But I,” and the look she fixes Rey with reminds her so much of Kylo Ren, of _Ben,_ that it almost hurts, “Think that it’s you.”

“But I’m just a scavenger.”

Leia waved her concerns away. “Anakin was a slave. Luke was a moisture farmer. Both grew up on Tatooine – a desert planet, much like Jakku.”

“But I’m barely trained,” Rey protested. “I can’t bring balance to something I know nothing about!”

Leia put a hand on Rey’s arm. The woman was touchy-feely, that was for sure – something Rey wasn’t quite used to, but with Finn’s complete disregard for personal space, she was getting better at putting up with it.

“I’m Force-sensitive, child. I’m Anakin Skywalker’s kin. And there is a peace, deep inside of you. I’ve no doubt that Ben feels it too.”

Rey felt her mouth go dry. She didn’t tell Leia of her dream – she’d rather die than tell her – but something deep within her felt that Leia knew more than she was letting on. The General could read people like a book, Rey knew, and she shivered at thinking what the woman could have done if she had trained.

Leia left their meeting with a, “Good luck with my brother” and a maternal kiss to Rey’s forehead. Rey felt oddly undeserving of both.

* * *

That night, Rey did not sleep well. She tossed and turned, images of dark eyes haunting her nightmares.

* * *

She arrives on Ahch-To without incident and trains with Luke for days before there’s hide or hair of Kylo Ren.

Those blissful days were shattered most inelegantly.

* * *

Sometimes, Rey would head off-world. “It doesn’t do a Jedi good to be cooped up,” Luke said. “When I was your age I was itching to get off-world, but couldn’t because of my duties. I wouldn’t condemn my student to the same fate.”

Today is such a day. Luke had sent her to Corellia for some errands – his shopping list included wine, dried meats, and a number of industrial materials that even Rey couldn’t pronounce.

She is dressed in a simple tunic and knee-length trousers, Anakin’s saber concealed underneath the long jacket she wore. She didn’t want her garb to scream ‘Jedi’ when she went off-world; Luke thought this choice wise.

She pilots the _Falcon_ easily, landing on Corellia just before sunset and finding the market unmolested. She is an unremarkable person in a sea of unremarkable people, and for once, Rey is grateful for the anonymity.

When she purchases the wine, she thinks – she _thinks –_ the man behind the counter might be flirting with her when he says, “Your smile could light a black hole.” Rey feels herself turn red, but thanks him. When she thinks of it later, a grin splits her face. _Something thinks she has a nice smile._ Nobody had ever told her that before. It feels good to be here. She finally feels like she can relax and have experiences of her choosing.

She buys herself dinner, sparing no expense, and pleasantly full and ready for a nap when she heads back to the ship. Rey would have liked for Finn to be there, to experience the evening with her, but she is not lonely. Being alone on Corellia is much better than where she was on Jakku, and she knows that when she gets back to the Resistance Base, she’ll be able to tell Finn and Poe all about it.

“I’ll have to get them something,” she muses aloud, a thrill of excitement going through her. She’d never given anyone a gift, before, and suddenly, she can’t wait to surprise her friends.

She’ll get the industrial materials and meats for Luke tomorrow – for now, the markets are closed and she is ready for bed.

She’s so content, so _happy_ to revel in her memories of the few hours she’d been off-planet that she almost doesn’t notice the dark, heavy presence when she approaches her ship.

Almost.

She knows who it is, would recognize that Force signature in her sleep.

Without hesitation, she clicks on her lightsaber. “Come out.”

He’s wearing his mask this time, decked out in his thick black robes. She can hear him chuckle through the voice modulator. “I see you’ve been training with Skywalker. Let’s see what you’ve learned.”

His saber is out, and they clash, blue and red in the darkness of night.

Rey is suddenly grateful that she’s landed several hundred yards away from the nearest town. The crickets are the only noise that accompanies the whirring of their sabers.

“You’re in my dreams, you know,” he says, matter-of-factly when they’re caught in a stalemate of wills, saber against saber. Rey frowns, using the Force for leverage against him, trying to trip him up – but he’s a solid brick wall, immovable.

She is an unstoppable force.

At his words, she snarls, retreating, only to go for his left side. He blocks her easily, but didn’t see the swift kick to the solar plexus.

Her heel connects with his body; he must’ve not been wearing armor underneath his cloak.

 _Stupid decision,_ Rey thinks. She goes again, cleaving down with her saber. He throws out a hand, attempting to stop her with the Force. It works for a split second before Rey finds the chinks in his mental armor, wiggling around inside of them, and forcing him to withdraw his hold on her.

She trips, panting, and he reels back from the force of it all.

Rey scrambles to her feet, ready for another blow, but he’s clapping, and somehow those long, slow claps manage to sound _sarcastic._

To her surprise, he takes off his mask. “I see Skywalker has been training you well.”

“Your _uncle_ is a good teacher, _Ben.”_ Rey sneers, unwilling to play his game.

Something in the Force around them jumps at that, and she can read Kylo Ren’s face: he is angry. “Insolent as always,” he says. “If you were my student, I’d have you beaten for disrespect.”

“Kinky,” Rey responds before she can think, and inwardly she curses Poe-fucking-Dameron for his stupid and untimely sense of humor.

His eyebrow jumps at that. “Perhaps it is best that you are training under Skywalker.”

“Considering I’m not a homicidal fascist? Yeah. I’d agree.”

“Considering that you’re in my dreams almost every night.”

Rey does her best to keep her face composed, but Kylo Ren is his mother’s child, much a he’d like to deny it. He can read her like a book.

“So you’ve had them too,” he muses, regarding her.

“ _One,”_ Rey hisses at him. “And you were your arrogant self as always, _living in my room._ ”

“Supreme Leader Snoke thinks it’s visions of the future,” Kylo Ren tells her. “A future we have together.”

Rey outright snorts at that. “The only future you and I have, _Ben,_ is mutually ensured destruction.”

He is quiet for a while, then, “There was a child, in one.”

Rey almost laughs outright. She? A mother? She was so malnourished on Jakku that she’d scarcely bled. She doubted that proper nutrition, at twenty, would change that. “You can’t be serious.”

“I am.”

Of all the habits she could have picked up from Poe, is insufferable mouth and bad attitude had to be it. “What, afraid he’s gonna turn out patricidal?”

Kylo Ren did _not_ take kindly to that. With a snarl, he unsheathed his saber and rushed Rey, swinging wildly. Rey ducked, blocked, parried.

She wasn’t sure how long the battle lasted, but at some point she turned around and he was gone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So...this might turn out to be a bit longer than three chapters. Maybe six. 
> 
> What do you guys think?


	3. Chapter 3

The first thing Rey does is move the _Falcon._ She won’t sleep properly until she’s out of this system, but she _won’t_ allow Kylo-fucking-Ren to drive her from her errands, from this wonderful planet, from the few days of respite she’s given in her life that has been routine, routine, routine.

She knew, deep inside of her, that he would not kill her, and she also knew that if he’d wanted her captured, he would have done so by then.

_So what is it that he wants?_

The dream – Kylo Ren had admitted to having them. Them, as in plural.

Rey shudders to think what the other dreams would have been, what they entail. He’d mentioned a child, which is laughable. She’s _just_ begun to get proper nutrition, had _just_ started bleeding regularly, on the cusp of twenty – the chances of her being fertile are slim to none.

_Our future together._

Rey can’t bear to think what that would mean. She doesn’t let herself dwell in it, instead landing the falcon on the other side of town, hoping that Kylo Ren doesn’t find her.

Luke had shown her how to make a Force diversion, and she casts one over the Falcon. Whoever passes it will simply not see it, and feel the need to look somewhere else. It’s meager, she knows, and it wouldn’t fool Kylo Ren if he’s hunting her down, but it’s enough to make her feel an iota of security.

When she runs into Kylo Ren in the town, she almost stamps her foot in indignation.

He’s ditched the black robes in favor of a gray high-collared, sleeveless shirt and black pants. He doesn’t wear his mask, and his hair is pulled back into a low ponytail. His scar is uncovered, but, Rey supposes, there are few people who know he bears it.

He sits in a far corner of the pub where Rey’d been wanting to get a late lunch, smirks, and beckons her over.

Rey pauses, hand flying to the concealed saber at her hip. Kylo quirks an eyebrow and holds his hands out, as if to say _“Look, I’m harmless.”_

Rey doesn’t buy it for a second.

But – and here’s the _but_ – Rey is a scavenger by nature, always curious, always wondering. So she sits across from him crosses her arms across her chest, and asks, “What do you _want?”_

He sips his wine – _wine? With lunch?_ – puts it down, and says, evenly, “I wanted to talk to you.”

“Why?”

A corner of his mouth twitches. “You’re incredibly powerful. I’m curious what you’re doing with that power.”

Rey’s eyes narrow. “Fighting the First Order.”

“But not me.”

It is a statement, not a question. “By extension, you. My goal is Snoke. If his lackeys get in the way, that’s on them.”

 _Both_ of his eyebrows go up. “Why Snoke?”

Rey gapes at him, unable to fathom how indoctrinated he is. A server stops by her table, and Rey orders the lunch special. She does not order wine – she has no idea what her tolerance for alcohol is, and she is not about to test it now, not when she needs all her wits about her.

“For starters, he’s the cause behind the war.”

“He is? Wouldn’t the rebellions be the reason for the war?”

“There’s nothing wrong with wanting an independent rule. It worked fine before he rose to power. How does he know what’s best for the people?”

“He is wise,” Kylo Ren says. “Wiser than your precious _Jedi_ Masters, that’s for certain.”

Rey gives an unladylike snort. “He’s manipulative. He’s just as bad as Sidious.” Both Luke and Leia had told her the story, and Rey knows that she can use it to needle at Kylo.

Something in his eyes flicker at that, and Rey can’t help but smirk. “You know the story of Palpatine? How he corrupted Anakin Skywalker, turned him into Darth Vader –“

“He _helped_ Vader,” Kylo challenges. “He brought Vader to _greatness.”_

“Do you know what drove Vader to Sidious? Fear. I suspect the same happened for you.”

His mouth takes on an ugly scowl. “Snoke sought _me_ out. Not the other way around.”

The words are out of Rey’s mouth before she can stop them. “At least Vader had free will.”

Kylo Ren leaves the table in a huff before her food arrives.

 _Good,_ Rey thinks. She’ll have a much easier time eating without staring at him across from her.

.

.

.

Later that day, just as the sun begins to set, he corners her in the market. Rey had followed a wild goose chase trying to find the merchant that had one very particular item on Luke’s list, and couldn’t help but feel triumphant.

That is, until Kylo interrupts it.

She feels him before she sees him, all hungry and ominous, like a black hole.

“I have free will,” he says, and Rey has the feeling that he’s been meaning to say that to her since their conversation.

“Of course,” Rey says, indulging him.

“You said I didn’t.”

Rey sighs. Kylo Ren is a petulant child. He might be nearly a decade her senior, but right now, he reminds her of a young adolescent. “I misspoke. You are a sentient being, so you have free will. You don’t have _autonomy._ ”

Kylo Ren glares down at her, and here, Rey is reminded how _big_ he is. From a distance, he looks lanky, weedy, but up close he is overbearing, his frame easily encompassing hers, the muscles in his arms and throat obvious.

Sometimes, Rey has to remind herself, there are people who are used to having full meals. People whose bodies were able to grow properly, to bulk up, and not in the too-late way that her has. She is no longer malnourished, looks healthy and fit, now, but her frame will always be slight.

However, having a slight frame means it’s easier to slip under his shoulder, make it so she’s not cornered against a building but out in the open, able to flee if she needs to.

He senses her distress and takes a step back. “Autonomy,” he repeats flatly, as if tasting the word. “You think I don’t have autonomy.”

“I think your autonomy is compromised the First Order.”

“And yours isn’t compromised by the Resistance?”

Rey is growing irritated. “My autonomy was compromised when I was starving on Jakku. The Resistance is reasonable. The General is experienced in politics. She’s not a dictator. She – “

“You think General Organa knows as much as the Supreme Leader?”

“I think she’s less deranged.”

They’re walking now, aimlessly. Rey is careful not to lead him to her ship.

“Sounds like Resistance propaganda.”

“Blowing up four planets isn’t _reasonable,_ Kylo.”

“I was against that,” he muttered, looking away.

Rey eyes him, waits for him to look at her. “Oh?”

“When that many lives are taken at once, there is a disturbance in the Force. It is…unpleasant. Master Snoke can draw power from it. I am not at that point.”

“You were against it…because it’s _unpleasant?_ Not because there’s families – people, actual _people –_ who _died?_ ”

“How many people do you think General Organa sends to their deaths every day?” he shoots back.

“That’s different,” Rey protests. “That’s war –“

“And that’s what the Hosnian system was,” Kylo growls. “War. You’ll do well to remember that.”

His voice is clipped, professional, and with that he nods at her and leaves.

Rey watches him go, and only returns to the Falcon when she’s sure she isn’t being followed.

.

.

.

Rey wakes up on the Falcon. A small voice, in the back of her mind, claims that it isn’t right, that something is wrong, but she silences it. She feels oddly at peace. She sits up and, to her horror, finds Kylo Ren sleeping next to her.

Rey gives a startled yelp, and he blinks his eyes open, stretches and stars up at her. “Nightmare?” he asks sleepily, sitting up next to her. He rubs her back, and – Rey is positively _horrified_ – he touches bare skin.

Rey shivers, desperately hoping that this was a dream. It has to be – her cot on the Falcon wasn’t this big, and when she looks at him again, he does not have the scar she put on his face, and she thinks _Ben._

“Yeah,” Rey mutters. “Same nightmare as before.”

Kylo – Ben? – hums sympathetically, hugging her to his (bare) chest and tucking his chin atop her head. “You don’t have to worry,” he mumbles, kissing her head. “I’m here.”

“Yeah,” Rey said, and her voice sounds small and tinny, even to her ears. _This could be Ben,_ she thinks: tender and understanding, the sort of man you slept next to naked.

Not the sort of man you dueled, and scarred, and left for dead.

“C’mon,” Ben says, pulling away. He bends down and kisses her, softly, on the lips. “Let’s go back to sleep.”

He lays down on his back, arm out, ready for her. She lies next to him, head on his chest, and he sighs and hugs her close. There is something about this that feels natural, that feels _right,_ and Rey could cry because she knows it’s all fake, it isn’t real.

When she wakes up for real the next morning, hear cheeks are wet with tears.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for your kind words and support <3
> 
> This has been extended into a six-chapter short story. I hope you're okay with that ;)


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which they finally kiss. Among other things ;)

That is how her days on Corellia go: she hunts down the mysterious items Luke needs and Kylo Ren shows up. Rey has no idea how he manages to find her, how he hasn’t been recognized or captured yet.

 _Benefits of a mask,_ she figures, remembering how jarred she’d been when she’d first seen his face, how unremarkable it was, how _human_ it was. She would be one of maybe two people outside of the First Order to recognize his face, his scar.

He never engages her in combat, which Rey is surprised by. Sure, there would be witnesses and crowds, but she had no doubt that he was capable of a one-sided massacre. No, there had to be some other reason why he was undercover, Force signature hidden so deeply that Rey could scarcely sense it.

Rey has three more materials she needs to find, and it’s taken her two days to track down the man who can point her in the right direction. Her life as a scavenger comes in handy, here: she can negotiate and haggle and stand her ground – and now, without having to worry about where she’s going to get her next meal, she can stand her ground firm.

She’s sitting across from a three-armed Besalisk who’d introduced himself as Gadren. She’d passed the list over to him and was awaiting his answer, when he looks over at her, quirks and eyebrow, and says, “Unusual list, girl. It’ll be a week or so before my contacts will be back with the shipments. But I can get them for you. Now, let’s discuss payment…”

“Retainer fee,” Rey tells him. “ _Small_ retainer fee. You’ll get paid when I have my materials.”

Gadren laughs deep from his belly. “Of course. I wouldn’t want to get in the way of a Jedi, would I?”

Rey balks; this only makes the Besalisk laugh harder. “Don’t worry, girl. I’m not about to ask questions. You’ll have your materials – if you need me, ask around the Cantina. They’ll tell you where to find me.”

He gets up, walks away, and Rey lays her head on the cool granite of the table, lets out a shaky breath.  

When she looks up, Kylo Ren is sauntering towards her, two glasses of something bubbly – and probably alcoholic – in his hands.

Rey groans. She _really_ didn’t have the energy for an ideological debate with him today. “Yes, sure, take a seat,” she says as he sits, sarcasm dripping from every syllable. He ignores her, peers down at her list.

“Diatium power cell, plasma-resistant materials…” he mutters, then looks up at her. “You’re about to build a saber?”

It’s a question, and Rey figures that must be how the Besalisk knew she was with the Jedi. She curses and puts her forehead back to the table.

She can _feel_ the amusement rolling off Kylo in waves. “Don’t worry,” he says. “The Besalisk had a Rebel Alliance tattoo on his shoulder – the one that wasn’t missing.”

Rey looks up to spare him a look baleful enough to kill. He slides the drink across the table; she ignores it. “Why are you here?” she asks, straightening. When he opens his mouth to reply, she interrupts him. “I haven’t seen your ship and you have no soldiers with you. You have enough free time to bother me. You haven’t used the Force _once._ ”

 _“Lower your voice!”_ he hisses.

 Rey plows on. “You’re – you’re in _hiding,_ aren’t you?”

He bares his teeth and moves to leave. Rey, operating on instinct, darts her hand out across the table to cover his. Their eyes meet, and for a split second Rey almost says, _“Stay.”_

But her mouth isn’t working. Halfway out of his seat, Kylo’s eyes dart from her face to her hand, placed on top of his. Rey follows his line of sight, and is acutely aware of how much _bigger_ than her he is. Her hands are rough and calloused and not fragile by anybody’s standards, but his are so massive they make hers look _dainty._

Slowly, he sits. Rey removes her hand.

He sits back and regards her, and Rey feels small and vulnerable under his gaze. “I find your situation _much_ more interesting. Tell me, what’s a scavenger doing bargaining with a Besalisk for the parts to a saber?”

Rey scowls. “What’s a First Order lackey doing out of uniform on Corellia?”

“Lackey?” his eyebrow is quirked.

“Scavenger?” Rey shoots back.

They are at a stalemate. Kylo Ren reaches for his glass and takes a long drink. Rey watches the muscles in his throat work, finds her eyes landing on his lips when he sets his drink down. “I’m here on…personal business. Not First-Order related. Or Snoke,” he adds this, almost as an afterthought. The look he’s giving her is meaningful, as if to say, _Look at me, I do have autonomy._

“I suppose,” Rey says, and a small smile curves at her mouth, “That I shouldn’t ask what this personal business is?”

“You suppose correctly,” he says, and there is a razor-thin edge underneath the amicable tone.

“Hmmm,” Rey muses. She eyes the drink he’d put in front of her, condensation beading on the glass.

“It’s not drugged,” Kylo says, and if might be Rey’s imagination or he might be genuinely insulted. “I told you. Personal business.”

“You spend an awful lot of time following me around for someone here on _personal business,”_ Rey mutters, but takes the drink anyway. Kylo Ren’s face is too expressive, too open, and she knows that he isn’t lying. The drink is a pinkish-orange and smells fruity, tastes sweet. She can feel the tang of alcohol, underneath it. She’ll drink it slowly – for some reason she can’t pinpoint, Rey doesn’t want to insult him, meager hospitality that this is.

“You’re interesting,” he says at length. “Personal business can get…boring. All of those materials are needed to construct a lightsaber, and I have to wonder why Skywalker sent you here alone.”

Rey gave a shrug. She won’t let him shake her faith in Luke. “It’s _Corellia._ I’m nobody. The materials on their own aren’t enough to raise attention, and you’d have to know what they’re for to suspect anything.”

He brings his glass to his lip. “You’re not wrong,” he concedes. Then, with a glint in his eye, “You _have_ come much further in your training than I’d have expected.”

“I beat you on Starkiller base, remember?”

“I was shot with a blaster bolt. Hardly a representation of my prowess.” He waves her accusation away easily, and Rey tries to hide the pang in her gut. She’s seated across from a killer, someone who murdered _Han Solo_ , his _father,_ in cold blood.

She should not be sharing a drink with him.

But the man across from her reminds her of the man she’d seen in her dreams: charming, with an honest face. The only difference is the angry red scar that cuts across his face, a stark reminder that he is _not_ the man she’d dreamt about.

If he’s aware of her discomfort, he doesn’t show it. “Are you familiar with the different types of sabers?”

“You know,” Rey says dryly, “I have no idea if Luke even wants me to do – that. And if he does, don’t you think he’d want it to be a surprise?” 

“Are you accusing me of spoiling a surprise…weapon construction?”

Rey lets her shrug answer for her. Kylo Ren runs a hand through his hair. “You primarily use a quarterstaff, yes?”

Rey doesn’t ask how he knows this, knows that this information was taken, plucked from her head. He knows of her past on Jakku the same way she knows his fear, a swirling storm inside of him, all-consuming and insidious.

“Yes,” Rey answers, slowly. “Why do you ask?”

“Did you know you can construct a saberstaff?”

Rey shakes her head. “I’ve only see yours and…”

“Anakin’s,” she finishes, the same time he says, “Vader’s.”

They stare at each other, and Kylo gives a small cough. “There are multiple designs for a saber. Don’t feel limited to what you’ve seen.”

Rey nods, taking the advice, dimly aware that even now, he’s trying to teach her. She thinks about making a comment, but instead says, “I’ll keep that in mind – _if_ Luke is going to have me make one.”

“He should. It’s about damn time you have your own weapon.”

“Anakin’s saber is working just fine,” Rey tells him, and she couldn’t keep the challenge out of her voice even if she wanted to. She brings the drink to her lips, is surprised to find most of it gone, and finishes the last of it.

He smirks, and stands. “Is it, scavenger?”

“Wanna find out, _lackey?”_ she scoots out of her seat and takes a step forward.

He steps into her space, looming over her, and for a minute Rey thinks she’s upset the beast, but no – he leans down, brushes his hand against her cheek, and for a split second, she’s assaulted with images, directions, a vision of where his ship is, seated outside of the city.

He’s leaning down, and his lips brush against her forehead when he says, “Come to my ship tonight and we’ll see how well Anakin’s saber suits you.”

There is a promise there, velvet-soft and wolf-dangerous. Rey nods, and he takes a step back, smirking, before sauntering out of the cantina.

Rey lets out a breath she didn’t know she was holding, and scurries back to her ship.

.

.

.

Their duel is magnificent and ferocious; Rey’s blood sings with the Force, her mind narrowing to her saber and Kylo’s, easily predicting where he’d strike next, muscles straining when she blocked him, using the Force to ever-so-slightly _push_ against his saber, until he’s holding it at such an angle and –

“Aargh!”

The cross guard of his saber had scorched through his clothes and into his chest. Rey immediately sheathed her blade, equal parts horrified and humored. It had to hurt – the wound had cauterized on impact, so he wouldn’t bleed out, and it was shallow, but…

“Bacta patches,” he grit out. “On my ship.”

The ramp was down, the panel open; Rey scurries up and finds a rudimentary first aid kit in the cockpit. _Two should do,_ she figures, and goes back to him.

He’s still standing, leaning against the bark of a huge tree, breathing controlled. Rey takes the small knife at her side and makes to cut through his shirt.

He stops her with a hand, and rolls his eyes. “I’m not crippled. I can take off my own shirt.”

“Fine,” Rey says, not bothering to warn him about the fabric that, no doubt, is stuck in the wound.

He winces when he rips his skin, and Rey smirks up at him, but puts the knife away. His torso is bare, and here, in the dark of the night, Rey is reminded – _again_ – how massive he is. It was easy to overlook it when he was in long black robes, but now…

His shoulders are broad, his chest and arms corded with muscle. He has a long torso, and its littered with scars. He’s not a hairy man, not like Poe or Luke, with only a small train of hair going from just below his navel and disappearing below his pants.

Rey shakes her head and puts the bacta patches on the wound, and steps back. She shouldn’t be _ogling_ the _enemy._

He lets out a breath. “Go ahead,” he mutters. “Laugh.”

And Rey does, the sound ringing throughout the clearing like bells. “I just – you were going on about blade forms, and _your own blade is why you lost the duel.”_

“It’s an old design. It helps protect your hands.”

“Maybe there’s a reason it’s not used anymore,” Rey snickers. “Either way, I think Anakin’s saber suits me _wonderfully._ ”

Kylo Ren is not amused, not even a little bit. With a casual wave of his hand he has Rey in the air – not by her neck, thankfully – and he smirks up at her. “You still have to learn about the Force.”

He doesn’t see the small pelting of stones that Rey had sent his way. Distracted, he drops her abruptly. Rey lands on her ass, _hard,_ but can’t help but laugh.

“I think I’m coming along just fine,” Rey says. “If anything, _you_ need a teacher.”

Something in the atmosphere changes, and Rey has the impression that she’d just made a very, very big mistake. He doesn’t lash out, doesn’t Force-throw her, but the happy mood from earlier has disappeared from his face.

“Anyway,” Rey says, forcing her tone to be light, “I think you’re down and out for the night. Maybe we can do this some other time?”

“Yeah,” he says. “I’d like that.”

.

.

.

And that is their routine. She runs errands during the day, occasionally running into him, and at night she uses the visions he’d imprinted into her minds’ eye to find him, at his ship, waiting for her with a lazy half-smirk on his face. It’s easy for her to forget that this is Kylo Ren, that this is a patricidal maniac, an broken, unstable man with little autonomy. In her mind, Rey can reconcile that Han’s only dead because Snoke wanted him dead, and Kylo Ren is all too eager to obey Snoke’s commands.

But still, she resents him, she fears him, she pities him.

She wonders what will happen if Snoke wants her dead.

But the more she’s with him, the more she thinks that this is not a First Order sanctioned mission. _Personal business,_ he’d said, and she thinks that it has nothing – and everything – to do with Snoke.

Rey’s dreams of Ben Solo are becoming more frequent, blurring together in a rush of skin on skin, dark eyes, black hair, a sly grin and big hands. In those dreams, he says her name like a prayer, like a song, and it makes something deep inside of her ache.

She does not know how she feels about these dreams. Luke had said that sometimes Jedi would get visions of possible futures – nothing ever written in stone, of course – but there was no conceivable way that this future was a possibility. Not only was he lacking his scar, he went by _Ben_ and he wasn’t a wanted criminal.

She pushes the ache aside. It will do not good to dwell on it now.

One morning she wakes up to find a small parcel at the bottom of her ship. In it are two purple crystals – _amethyst,_ she thinks – and she can feel the Force humming within them. There is a scrap of paper, with a short message written on it.

 _Final parts,_ it says, and Rey knows instinctively who the scrawl belongs to.

.

.

.

It’s not night, barely even early afternoon, but Rey goes to his ship. There is something coursing through her veins, something she cannot name. She has the crystals in hand, Anakin’s saber at her hip, and she can’t tell if she wants to scream or to cry.

He’s the enemy. He shouldn’t be doing nice things.

Rey can’t even bring herself to be suspicious of the crystals, to think that they’re some sort of Sith weapon, because she knows they are not. Growing up on Jakku taught her to trust her instincts, and between the Force, the purity of the crystals, and the feeling in her gut, she _knew_ it wasn’t malicious.

She finds him lounging outside of his ship, reading a holobook. The sight is so out of place, it’s almost obscene: Kylo Ren, in a plain shirt and cotton pants, laying on a blanket and _reading_ in the morning sunlight.

He shifts when he sees her, sets the book down. “You’re early.”

“What’s this?” Rey says, voice charged with vehemence. “What are you _doing?”_ She thrusts the crystals at him and he stands, brow furrowed in confusion.

“You’d need them for constructing a saber,” he says. “Finding kyber crystals is incredibly difficult, and I’ve played no small part in that. I figured I’d make your job easier.”

Rey narrowed her eyes. “I don’t _need_ your help.”

“I never said you did,” Kylo Ren counters, face contorted into an ugly scowl. “I was just being _nice._ ”

“ _You’re not supposed to be nice!”_ Rey shouts, and there it is, there’s the crux of the matter. He is Kylo Ren, he is not nice, he is not the Ben Solo who visits her in her dreams.

For a split second, he looks genuinely hurt. “I see,” he says, and his scowl is back in place. “My apologies for the confusion.”

But Rey is not finished with him. “What are you playing at? What the _fuck_ are you doing?”

“None of your business,” he hisses. She sees his hand, watches as his hand twitches over the hilt of his saber.

“You made it my business when you followed me to the Cantina,” Rey tells him. “When you refused to kill me, even when you could. You’ve made it by business since Takodana, _Kylo Ren._ ” She packs as much contempt as she possibly can into that last part, and he flinches. In her anger, Rey drops the crystals to the ground and unsheathes her – _Anakin’s_ – saber. She rushes at him, and he has just enough time to draw his own blade and block her attack, with enough force to make her back up several steps.

Their eyes meet. “I didn’t like who I was with the First Order and I didn’t know where else to go.”

Rey gawps at him. It’s not that he killed people, not that he destroyed an entire system – but that he _didn’t like himself._

“Why me,” she says, almost not wanting to hear the answer.

“I don’t know,” he says, and he sounds like a man defeated.

Rey narrows her eyes, unsatisfied with the answer. He takes a fighting stance, as if sensing her intentions. Rey swings with her saber, lunging and blocking and parrying, dancing around him, trying to make him crack.

“That’s bullshit,” she tells him, panting. “You know.”

And suddenly he is behind her, free hand rendering her wrist immobile so she couldn’t work her saber.

 _“Because I dream of you every night,”_ he whispers, lips brushing the shell of her ear. _“Because I can’t escape the call to the light.”_

Rey ignores the shiver that goes up her spine. “And what, I’m the light?”

“ _Yes,”_ he says, lips pressed into her neck. “You won’t leave me alone. You are a parasite.”

Rey jerks her wrist out of his grasp, whirls around, saber at the ready. _“I’m_ the parasite? I think you mean Snoke.”

When he looks down and doesn’t respond, she says, in a gentler tone, “Why get me the crystals?”

He brings a hand up to her cheek, brushes the hair out of her face. “Like you said,” he murmurs. “You are my business.”

Rey clicks off her saber – Anakin’s saber – leans forward, and kisses him. It’s not strong, more of a suggestion, a brush of skin against skin, and when she pulls back, he _tsks._ Rey’s about to die of embarrassment, about to storm off, but he says, “Oh, I think you can do better than _that_ ,” and he’s smiling, and -   

She’s tall, for a girl, but she has to stand on her toes to kiss him, and he’s bending down, and this time it’s a real kiss, reminiscent of the one they shared in the dream. He is warm and alive under her hands, his lips are soft, and his mouth opens for her. His hands skim over her neck, her shoulders, her sides, coming to rest at her waist and pulling her flush against him.

He pulls away, hands coming up over hers. His eyes are lidded, and to Rey’s embarrassment several small stones – and their sabers – are floating around them.  With a wave of his hand, Kylo sets them down, looking, of all things, _sheepish._ His hands return over her, clasping them to his chest. Rey can feel the corded muscle underneath the thin fabric of his shirt, can feel his heart pounding in sync with hers. He presses his lips to her forehead, and Rey looks up, catching his bottom lip between hers. She drags her teeth over it, lightly, and his hands tighten, and then –

He hefts her up, and Rey strongly suspects that he used the Force, and his hands are on her ass and she fists hers into his hair, and then he’s turning his head and pressing kisses to the side of her neck and _good gracious god –_

A small part of her protests when he brings them in the direction of his ship, that this is the _enemy_ and _what is she doing,_ but he leaves the ramp down and the doors opened, and his cot is _much_ softer than the grass, and –

As she gathers her bearings, Rey is reminded, abruptly, of another half-forgotten dream. Kylo looks down at her, palm on the side of her face. “You too?” he murmurs. Rey nods, words failing her. It’s coming back in bits and pieces – the ship, his face, the lighting and the angles. He kisses her softly, propping himself up on an elbow and kissing her, body next to hers, warm and alive.

“Every night,” he tells her again, between kisses. He’s going slowly, too slowly – Rey can feel herself, hot and needy and handsy, and this is not enough, it will never be enough. “It’s why I’m here. I can’t – you’re so _light,_ ” and the way he says it, it sounds like a disease. His mouth moves against hers, his eyelashes tickling her face. “You’re so _good._ ”

Rey has her hands underneath his shirt, skimming over his ribs, and he shivers. Idly, Rey wonders the lsat time he’s been touched like this.

She can’t remember the last time she’d been.

And, enemy or no, it’s so incredibly _nice._

“You’re so _distracting,_ ” he murmurs against the shell of her ear, and Rey can’t stop herself: “Then why not kill me?”

His answer is immediate: “Don’t want to.”

Rey swallows. “Why not?”

His head is in the crook of her shoulder, his fingers dancing around her hips. “Lots of reasons. Waste of potential. The dreams.”

“You think they’re prophetic?” Rey asks, incredulous.

“Vader had them,” he tells her, kissing from her ear to her shoulder, across her collarbone. “So did Skywalker. Makes sense I would.”

“Jedi dreams are not definite visions,” Rey reminds him, but it’s halfhearted. His mouth is warm and wet and wonderful, and not enough of her skin is exposed.

“That’s Jedi talk,” he mumbles.

“I _am_ a Jedi.”

He grins at her, wickedly. “Are you?” he brings a hand between her legs, drags his fingers over the rough fabric of her pants, and Rey’s hips twitch. “This isn’t very _Jedi_ of you,” he murmurs, pressing his lips to her neck, bringing the flesh lightly between his teeth. He pushes his hands underneath her tunic and holds them at her hips, fingertips ghosting underneath the waistband of her pants.

Rey kneels up to kiss him, and cups a hand over his obvious erection as she says, “I’m a different kind of Jedi.”

He makes a small groan in the back of his throat, and from then, Rey knows she is lost.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the cut off, but it's gonna be like 2000 words of smut. I figured it's best to break up the chapter. I'm trying really hard to make Kylo believeable - is it working? If not, please let me know. I'm not opposed to going back and editing it if it's bad, lmao.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which there is Inappropriate Use of the Force

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aaaannnd here's the smut, guys ;) Let me know what you think.

Her world narrows: it is Kylo Ren’s hands, his mouth, his body. This is not like her dreams, the warm familiarity of another – this is new and exciting and _hot._

It takes little coaxing for Rey to shimmy out of her tunic. She’s left in a bandeau and her trousers, and his eyes rove over her. Rey should feel self-conscious – even with nearly a year of proper nourishment, she’s still skinny and slight, and her hipbones stick out, and you can still sort of see her ribs – but his hands and mouth are upon her and Rey feels anything but. She slips her hands underneath the soft fabric of his shirt, sliding her hands up the muscles of his back, and the shirt hikes up and he gets the hint.

They’re still kneeling, half-naked before each other. Rey straddles his lap and plants a kiss on his collarbone, dragging the flesh between her teeth. He hooks a finger under her bandeau. “Off,” he groans, lips brushing her ear.

 _“Mhmm,”_ Rey hums, and pushes him so he’s on his back, hands skimming across his chest, down the muscles of his stomach, tracing a finger along the small line of hair that begins at his navel and disappears beneath his waistband.

A wicked thought crosses her mind. Before she loses the courage, Rey plants a kiss there, right above where his skin meets his pants.

His whole body twitches, and he groans. Rey smirks – there is something very satisfying about having Kylo Ren half naked and beneath her – but it doesn’t last long.

Rey is _convinced_ that he used the force, the bastard, when he gets out from underneath her and is on top of her. He’s standing at the foot of the bed, over her, and now Rey _knows_ he’s using the Force because she has limited range of motion with sitting up. It’s a weak hold – she could break it if she wants, and she highly suspects he did that on purpose.

Well. She’ll humor him.

He lifts up a leg by the heel of her boot and quickly, with deft fingers, he unlaces it, shucks it off, and tosses it behind him. He does the same with her other boot, and her socks follow. He kicks off his own boots and in one swift (no doubt Force-aided) motion, he hooks his hands underneath the waistband of her pants and shucks them off, over her legs, and tosses them on the floor.

He plants kisses on her calves, her knees, her thighs, and Rey can feel heat pool in her belly, can feel her center throb with want. He keeps a hand hooked under her underwear, right at her hip, and it’s such a _tease._

When he kisses her inner thigh and pulls the sensitive flesh between his teeth, Rey gives a strangled whimper.

When he hooks a finger underneath her underwear and draws his knuckles across her sex, she pants.

When he takes off her underwear she anticipates the feel of him, but no -

When he lifts himself up and props himself over her, she almost yells at him to knock it off, to just _touch her already,_ but he’s making quick work of her bandeau and laving at one of her breasts, palming the other in a rough hand.

Rey makes the most pathetic keening sound, but she can’t be bothered to care – his mouth is warm and wet and _good gracious god,_ he’s parting her folds and slowly, too slowly, he’s rubbing a finger from her opening to her clit and back again. She’s wet – dear _gods, she’s wet –_ and he moans out a curse.

She didn’t know she could feel this good, that another person could make her body sing.

He’s no longer holding her in place with the Force. Rey leans up and kisses him, forcing his mouth open and drinking him in as he slips a finger inside of her. It’s uncomfortable for a moment but then he’s hitting a spot Rey didn’t know she had and she’s whimpering into his mouth, hips bucking, nails digging into his back, chest heaving and legs trembling.

When his thumb begins to simultaneously circle around her clit, she has to suppress a scream. She’s seeing white, body convulsing, stars blooming behind her eyelids –

And then everything is languid, at peace; her brain is fuzzy and her limbs feel like jelly. Her breathing is heavy, and she thinks she might melt into the mattress.

“Good?” he asks. He’s hovering over her, propped up on his elbows, and Rey can feel the warmth emitting from his body. His eyes are on her, his gaze burning. Rey tilts her head up and catches his bottom lip between her teeth. She skims her hands down his sides, hooks her fingers through the belt loops in his pants and gives a tug. Two can play at this using-the-Force game, and Rey uses it to help coax off his pants.

Once they’re off he lays his body on top of hers, pressing his lips to her neck. The weight of him is solid and _comforting,_ of all things. He’s peppering kisses along her neck, her jaw, the shell of her ear.

Rey has never experienced such affection in her life.

She pushes him off of her, hand pressed against his chest, and she uses the Force to guide him down onto the mattress. She trails her fingers down, between his pectorals, along the lines of his abdomen, below his navel, until she’s tracing a finger along the shaft of his cock.

He gasps. Rey wraps a hand around him, stroking, and gives his body an appraising look. His limbs and torso are long and muscley, dotted with the occasional freckle. He’s scarred, the most notable being where Chewie hit him with a bowcaster bolt. His hipbones look sharp enough to cut, and his thighs look powerful.

He is _beautiful._

Rey plants a kiss along his hipbone and goes down, down, until she’s taking his length into her mouth, hand fisted around the shaft.

The noise he makes when she draws the flat of her tongue along the bottom of his cock is _enthralling._

Rey continues, doing her best not to gag. She’s not intimately familiar with the ways of oral sex, but Kylo seems to be enjoying it. His hips buck up, and Rey uses the Force to keep his body still.

 _“Fuck,”_ he moans, and Rey feels her center throb with want. She simultaneously strokes him with her mouth and her fist, and when she releases him he’s panting. The second she releases her Force hold on him he’s upon her, kissing her and palming her breasts and stroking her clit. They’re both kneeling on his mattress; he’s pulling her flush against him and she’s keening into his chest, nails digging into his bicep.

And then he stops and she almost shouts in indignation, but he’s guiding her onto her back – gently, of all things, _gently_ – and she parts her legs.

He’s hovering above her, hands braced on either side of her head. “Is this okay?” he asks, and there’s something so uncomfortably _genuine_ in his eyes.

“Yeah,” Rey says, breathless. He lets out a breath and kisses her as she guides his cock inside of her. It stings, at first, and it’s a little uncomfortable. She shifts, and he angles his hips so it’s a bit more comfortable. “Touch yourself,” he says through clenched teeth. “It’ll – be better – for you.”

Rey does as instructed and stars burst behind her eyes. She rubs her clit with one hand, scores marks on his back with the other. She’s biting her lip to keep from screaming and then his mouth is upon her, ravishing her with lips and teeth and tongue.

 _“Fuck, Rey,”_ he groans as he ruts into her. Rey gives up all control and gives a whimper that turns into a scream as she reaches her climax. He comes seconds after with a barely-subdued roar. Rey’s world becomes an amalgamation of senses – she might have even passed out, she’s not sure.

When she comes to, Kylo Ren is by her side, a heavy arm draped around her waist. Their legs are intertwined and her head is tucked underneath his chin. He’s trailing his fingers along her back, and Rey can’t remember feeling so relaxed in her life.

She knows that this is _Kylo Ren,_ that she just _slept with the enemy_ , but there’s something about this that feels so incredibly right. She sighs and, against all better judgement, relaxes against him.

After several moments, she breaks the silence. “I should…I should go soon.”

She feels his fingers twitch. “You don’t have to.”

This give Rey pause. She can’t bring herself to look him in the eye. She swallows, and rasps, “Okay. Okay.” She curls into him, hand resting on his hip. His eyes flutter shut and his breathing evens. It is only the movement of his hand on her back that Rey knows he’s awake.

It’s been bugging her. “Kylo?”

“Mmm?”

“Why _did_ you get me those crystals?”

He heaves a sigh. “I told you. They’re hard to come by – I’ve _made_ them hard to come by. I was just…trying to make your life a little easier.”

Rey swallows. “Okay,” she says. She’s not prepared to deal with the emotions welling up inside of her, not prepared to confront any of it. “Thank you.”

He mumbles a sleepy, “Welcome,” and tugs Rey closer. She relaxes into it, and lets herself slip into a deep sleep.

* * *

And so, there is another routine added to Rey’s days on Corellia.

Days pass. She gets the final materials for Luke. She’s already delayed her stay as it is, but she can’t bear the thought of leaving.

It is Kylo Ren who finds her. She’s in a Cantina, about to herself dinner, when he slips into the seat across from her.

“I’ll take whatever she’s having,” he tells the server, who, to her account, does not look phased. Kylo Ren is wearing a black sleeveless knit tank that shows off the scar on his left arm. His pants are also black, as are his belts and boots. He looks less like a Knight and more like a smuggler.

Rey thinks it suits him.

“Yes, you can sit here,” Rey says sarcastically. Kylo Ren rolls his eyes and looks at the beverage menu left on the table.

“You’ll be wrapping up your stay on Corellia, I take it?” he asks, tone casual. The eyes that land on her are anything but.

“How’d you figure?” Rey asks.

He gives a sly smile. “I have informants. I told you – the materials you’re here for are very distinct.”

“So you’re stalking me.”

“I think of it more as ‘looking out for your wellbeing.’”

The plates of food arrive; Rey doesn’t respond, instead digs into her meal. Over the months, she’s learned to pace herself with eating, learned to savor food and _not_ shovel every morsel into her mouth.

He’s watching her, Rey can tell. She looks up at him and scowls. She’s wondered if he’d follow her out of Corellia, if he’d truly try and sabotage the Resistance, try to find Luke.

She voices this to him: “Don’t try to follow me off-world. I _won’t_ be leading you to Luke.”

He actually looks _offended._ “Have I given you _any_ inclination that I was interested in Skywalker’s whereabouts?”

“Well, there was the whole kidnapping thing last year…”

He frowns. “I meant now, Rey.”

Rey sighs. She doesn’t want to get into it with him. “You’re right – tonight will be my last night on Corellia.”

They finish their meal, and Rey deliberately sticks to non-confrontational talk. At the end, they’re walking through the market; there are a few hours until sunset, when most of the vendors close. Merchants are selling jewelry, wine, honey, all sorts of fruits and fabrics and knick-knacks. Rey purchases a small wooden instrument – an _ocarina,_ the merchant tells her – for Finn and a candle that smells like pine needles for Poe.

She and Kylo amble through the market until they reach the road where they typically part ways, his ship docked in one direction and the _Falcon_ in the other. They idle a moment, looking at each other, until Kylo says, “Walk with me. There’s something I want to show you.”

Rey’s eyebrows arch up, but she follows him. He leads her in the direction of his ship – big surprise – and, against all odds, his hand comes down to hold hers.

He doesn’t say anything, doesn’t mention it; a surreptitious glance at him shows a flaming blush on his cheeks.

Rey smiles inwardly at that, and gives his hand a small squeeze. In the back of her mind, she wonders if he’d come back with her – back to the resistance, back to his mother.

 _He killed Han,_ she muses, _but he’s not all bad._

Not all good, either – but perhaps…

She’ll speak to Leia about it, when she returns to Yavin 4.

They’re at the same clearing, but it’s a different ship. It’s a light freighter – a smuggler’s ship, she thinks.

“What happened to the Upsilon?” she asks.

Kylo shrugs. “Too noticeable.”

“Too First Order?” Rey asks. She’s tentative, but by the look on his face she knows she’s right.

He shrugs. “It’s easier to blend in with a freighter. I can use whatever mods I need – it’s not that hard to do. She’s called the _Phantom._ ”

Rey wonders what sort of change she’s observing in him. “I like it,” she tells him. She doesn’t mention the similarities to the _Falcon._ “It suits you.”

He grins at that. “I thought I’d let you know what to look for.”

“What, if you’re just casually in the neighborhood?” Rey asks with a chuff. When he doesn’t respond, Rey looks at him, realizes that’s _actually what he means._

He clears his throat. “It was just a thought.”

“Come with me,” Rey blurts out, before she can stop herself. “Come back.”

He shakes his head. “Not possible, Rey.”

“Let me talk to the General,” Rey says, the beginnings of an idea forming in her mind. She takes his hand in both of hers. “You can help Luke train new Jedi.”

His other hand comes up, covers hers. “Or,” he says quietly, “You could come with me.”

Rey recoils. “Don’t ask me to be a salve, Kylo.”

“I never asked you to come to the first order. I just said _come with me.”_

And then it begins to make sense – the new clothes, the freighter, the _“persona business.”_   “You’ve defected,” she says, staring at him. “You’re a traitor.”

He winces. “No. I’m just…doing other business, for a while.”

“And you want me to come with you,” Rey repeats. “Just – drop my life and accompany you?”

“You asked the same of me,” he shoots back. He crosses his arms across his chest.

“I asked you to _come back_ to your _family.”_

“What family?” he sneers. “I’m personally responsible for the death of the General’s husband. I doubt I’ll be welcomed back with open arms.”

Rey deflates. “Right. It was stupid. Sorry for bringing it up.” She sighs. She didn’t want this to end in a spat, but she’s not surprised. She turns to leave, and is surprised when he lays a hand – just his fingertips, really – on her arm.

“Stay,” he says.

And she does. 


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for your comments <3 they make my day.

And oh, she stays.

Her body has grown used to the feel of him; in a sense, she’s addicted. They walk up the ramp and into his ship, his hand burning through her shirt at the small of her back. She loves it, loves the feel, and wishes, desperately, for _more._

His kiss is hungry. His kiss is demanding. His kiss is bliss. It’s thrilling and relaxing and _wonderful_ all at once.

She loves it, she thinks. Absolutely _loves_ the feel of him.

His mouth is soft, his hands are rough, his body is hard underneath his clothes. Rey skims a hand over his ribs, drags her tongue over his neck – there are purple mottled bruises there already and she intends on leaving more. He dwarfs her – really, truly dwarfs her – in a way she’s unused to. She has to stand on her tiptoes to kiss him, even with Kylo bending over, hands hot on waist, fingers splayed over her hips.

They’re still outside his ship, mouths on each other like a couple of teenagers, as the sun sets. At some point, after it’s gone dark, the kiss is broken. His forehead rests against hers, a hand at the base of her neck. Rey’s hands are on his chest, fingers brushing the skin of his collarbone.

“Stay,” he says again. “If not forever, at least for the night.”

Rey sighs. She has learned, growing up on Jakku, to never think in terms of forever. _Forever_ would mean she was a scavenger, waiting, waiting, for a thing that would never come. _Forever_ was something she rarely contemplated.

But something in his eyes is pleading, is _hopeful_ , and Rey doesn’t correct him.

“Okay,” she says, breathless. “Tonight.”

And he looks positively _joyous._ He picks her up and carries her into the _Phantom,_ kissing her the entire time, ravishing her mouth. He sits her on the cot, kneeling before her. He tugs her pants down around her ankles and she kicks them off. Her underwear follows suit.

He looks up at her, his gaze dark and hungry. Rey bites her lip.

His mouth is on her legs, kissing upwards from her knees, hands hot on her hips. He pauses as he reaches the apex of her thighs before pressing his mouth to her sex.

Rey does her best not to squirm. It feels – it feels _wonderful._

He strokes her with the flat of his tongue and she pants, fisting a hand into his hair. She hisses in pleasure and tries not to scream –

But then he suckles on her clit and she _keens._ Her hips buck on their own accord, and then he’s using the Force to keep her still and _oh,_ she can’t take it anymore –

She climaxes with a cry, hands pulling at his hair and thighs wrapped around his head. He pulls away, fixing her under his gaze, hands already working her shirt off of her. He is warm, and gentle, and hot, and _perfect,_ and Rey thinks that this is heaven on earth.

After, it is with a heavy heart that Rey leaves. He’s dead asleep on his cot – it’s bigger than the standard issue mattress, she realizes, _he planned on you_ – and she has to shove that thought away before she starts crying.

He couldn’t have expected her to join him, any more than Rey could have expected him to follow her to the Resistance.

She leaves her contact information, and slips back to the _Falcon._

She’s already late.

.

.

.

Rey is back on the Resistance base for two weeks before she starts panicking. She’s been stressed out, and jumpy, and sick – unusually pale, and nauseous. Even Finn has noticed.

She’s late to duty one morning – she’d been vomiting half the night.

“All right?” Poe asks, when she arrives at breakfast looking haggard and worn.

“Bug,” Rey responds. She eats because she has to – she’s sure it won’t stay down, but she needs the energy. “Jessika has it too.”

Poe snorts. “If I didn’t know better, I’d say the two of you were pregnant, with the puking and the tired.”

Finn rolls his eyes. “Quit it, Poe. They’re sick, leave ‘em be.”

Rey balks. _Pregnant._ It was – could it be possible? She’d just started bleeding once she was with the Resistance and had access to proper nutrition, but she thought she was infertile. There’s no way…

_But what if there is? Kylo said he’d seen a child, in one of his dreams…_

Rey pales. She sits through the meal, and on shaky legs she stands to excuse herself and find the General.

Leia is in her office, sitting behind her desk.  “What’s the matter, Rey?”

Rey bites her lip, unsure –and ashamed, and scared, and too full of too many emotions. “I think I’m pregnant,” she blurts out with no finesse.

Leia looks surprised, but her voice is gentle. “That’s perfectly fine, Rey.” She pulls up a file on her holopad, continues talking. “Our members fall pregnant, though we do encourage family planning. Would you like to discuss your options?”

Rey shakes her head and gathers up her courage. “No, General – you don’t understand. The father – it’s Kylo. Ben. Your son.”

There is a pregnant pause, then something dark that crosses the General’s face. _“What did that boy do to you?”_

Rey shakes her head again, frantic to dispel Leia’s _(perfectly logical, he’s the enemy)_ assumption. In a way, Rey can’t blame her. “I – no. It’s not that. He didn’t… _do_ anything to me. That is – there was no _force._ ”

“I see.” The General pauses, and looks at Rey. There is something sad, and angry, and kind in her eyes. “Can you…tell me, Rey?”

And Rey does.

Rey tells her of meeting Kylo on Corellia. How their relationship progressed. How he’s defected from the First Order. That she slept with him.

The dreams.

“Kylo had them too,” Rey says. “He told me. He mentioned a child, in one…”

Rey told her how she’d been throwing up, and shaky, and bloated recently, how she thought it was just a bug but weren’t those also symptoms of pregnancy?

Leia’s lips remain pursed the entire time. When Rey is finished, she is surprised to find tears in the General’s eyes. The woman stands and walks around her desk, and Rey expects a verbal lashing.

“Oh, _Rey,”_ she says, and Rey finds herself enveloped in a hug – a maternal hug, a mother’s hug, something Rey can’t remember experiencing but she knows, oh she knows, she doesn’t deserve it. “Your med file – I’ve looked at it - you were fitted with the standard contraceptive when you arrived with Finn. If you were with child – I promise you, if you’re Force-sensitive, you’d sense it. Luke knew I was pregnant before Han did. The symptoms you’re describing – that’s the flu, it’s going around the base. Oh, you must’ve been so worried…”

Leia is fussing and cooing, and Rey thinks that she doesn’t know how to respond. “I…I, oh.”

She’s relieved, oh, she’s relieved, but she feels so _stupid._

“You and my son have a…unique relationship. I’ve seen this coming,” Rey wonders if the General has had the dreams “-  oh, but Rey, please keep this hush-hush. I’m understanding because I’ve forseen it, forseen you. Others…my son isn’t who he once was.”

Rey swallows. Relief and anger war for dominance. Relief wins. “He expressed discontent at the First Order,” she tells the General. “I think he’s defected. He traded in his ship. Told me I could…find him, if I ever wanted to.”

Leia heaves a great sigh. “He’s taken with you. He may be reformed, but he still must answer to his past. I…I have a plan. To bring him back. To hold him accountable – Snoke will not let him go unmarred, untethered, for long. Rey,” and her eyes are dark, and sharp. “I will only do this with your explicit permission.”

Rey swallows. “What?”

“I can send him a transmission,” Leia says, carefully. “One stating that you believe you are pregnant with his child.”

Rey gives a laugh. “He won’t come for that, General. With all due respect.”

Leia’s eyebrows shoot up. “Whyever not?”

“If he wouldn’t come back for you, or for me,” Rey says, “Why would the _possibility_ of a child? He would see through that ruse a mile away.”

“My son is not the most rational being,” Leia says. “And you said he saw a child in his dreams. If he’s anything like Vader, he’ll come running. At the very least, we’ll be able to get information on Snoke. I’ll mention having to protect his kin from Sith.” Leia is talking mostly to herself now.

And Rey – it’s not vengeance that she seeks. It’s not even his capture. She’s relieved she’s not knocked up, but she’s bitter at the idea that Kylo Ren would decide an embryo is worth more of his loyalty than she is.

Personal feelings aside – it will be good for the Resistance. The First Knight of Ren – the intel that he would have would be extraordinary.

“Do it,” Rey finds herself saying.

Leia nods. “I will send the transmission this evening.”

“Thank you, General.”

Leia touches Rey’s arm. “If you need anything – please, do not hesitate to come to me.”

Rey nods, and with one last look at Leia, she departs.

…

The day he turns himself in – four days after the transmission is sent –  Rey remains in her quarters. He’s surprisingly calm – he only concussed one Resistance fighter, when the poor man decided to play with his saber after it was confiscated.

By day two, he’s lashing out, pacing around his cell, demanding to see Rey.

Most of the Resistance thinks he’s touched in the head. They look at her with sympathetic eyes, pitying the girl who’s attracted the attention of a madman Sith.

Rey avoids him. She spends a lot of time with Leia, after his arrival. She wants to go to him, but no – she can’t.

Thankfully, the General understands.

…

“He’s asking for you again,” Leia tells her. “He won’t speak to anybody.”

Rey can read between the lines enough to know there’s a request, an order, there. “I’ll speak to him tomorrow.”

Tomorrow comes. Rey wakes at dawn, to avoid attention.  Kylo Ren had been there almost two weeks, and just now she has the courage to Face him.  

Leia is waiting for her. She’s out of view of him. The guards are off to the side, most likely at her request.

“You can do this, Rey,” she says, touching her arm. “If you need me, I’m here.”

Rey swallowed thickly. She wished she shared the General’s confidence.

Kylo Ren must’ve sensed her approach, weakened though his Force abilities were – there is a chip, in his arm, one that inhibits his Force abilities.

One that can kill him at a moment’s notice, should he hurt anybody.

Rey doesn’t feel any better at that.

He stands up as she enters, and Rey tries not to wince when she sees his face. His lip is split, an ugly mottled bruise had formed on his left cheekbone, and his eyes are frantic and bloodshot and manic.

“Rey,” he breathes, and her name sounds like a prayer. He looks at her as if she were the sun, the moon, and all of the stars. “Are you – how is – the baby?” His eyes flicker from her face to her stomach, and Rey feels something inside of her wither and die.

“I – I came,” he goes on, when she doesn’t respond. “When I heard. I gave myself up. I know I’m not – I won’t be the greatest – but I’ll try. Snoke won’t get to him. Or her. I – I killed Snoke. He won’t hurt our baby.”

Rey can’t take it anymore. She shakes her head. “There is no baby.”

His eyes go wide. “Miscarriage?”

“Oh, _Ben,”_ she says, and her voice breaks. Tears began to prick at her eyes, and he, compassion clearly written on his face, puts his arms around her, guides her to his cot and sits, holding her to his chest.

“It’s okay, shhh,” he croons, stroking her hair. “It’s okay. It’s okay. I’m sorry, Rey. It’s okay.”

Rey doesn’t deserve this, doesn’t deserve the comfort of his touch. She pulls away and looks up at him, memorizes his face – the look of compassion on his features, for _her -_ before she breaks him, breaks the shaky bond that has grown between them. This is not Corellia. This is D’qar. They are at war. 

She is not pregnant with his child.  

“There was never a baby.”

It kills her to watch his face go from confusion to despair to anger, but she can’t look away. The prospect of a child had been a hope that he was clinging to, and now she’d ripped it away from him.

“I thought I was,” Rey tells him, face burning. “And I panicked. I told Leia everything. She…she decided to tell you – even though I wasn’t. I tried to tell her that you wouldn’t come, but she -”

 “You thought I wouldn’t _come?”_ he snarls, recoiling away from her. “It’s our _child,_ Rey!”

“If you wouldn’t come for me, what’s a child going to change anything?!” Rey shoots back.

And there it was: Rey was hurt, she was bitter, that he’d come for a rumor about his _offspring_ but not for _her._

“Am I really that meaningless to you?” she grits, letting her emotion get the best of her. “Am I just breeding stock?”

“Get out,” he says, voice low and dangerous.

When she does nothing to move, he roars. _“GET OUT!”_

Rey shoots him one last disdainful look before leaving. She bypasses the General, bypasses the guards, and makes for a run.

She doesn’t know where she’s going, but she can’t stay here.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Who's Satan? Me. I am Satan. 
> 
> *hides*


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Had to split this bad boy into 2. More to follow.

She finds Luke.

Her Master doesn’t ask questions, doesn’t pry; he must know of Kylo Ren’s surrender and capture. Whether or not he knows about the faked pregnancy is another matter.

Rey still has the purple crystals Kylo gave her.

The materials she has for him are delivered late, but he does not seem to mind. Rey wonders if he’s had prophetic dreams as well.

He helps her unload the _Falcon_ and instructs her on a training regime. Rey spends the day meditating, lifting rocks, and using the Force to sense targets.

At the end, Luke says, “You retrieved everything I sent you for?”

Rey nods, panting from the exercise. “Yes. I…Master Luke, what _are_ the materials for?”

There’s a gleam in Luke’s eye. “Well, the wine is for me. The rest…Rey, it’s time you’ve made yourself a saber.”

“What about the crystals?”

Luke gestures for her to follow him. Rey falls into step beside her master, wondering if she should bring up Kylo Ren’s gift.

“Kyber crystals are rare,” he tells her. “But I have found a few. You may choose from one of them. There are many designs to sabers – I’m sure you’ve seen Kylo Ren’s – and I have a few manuals you may look at. But ultimately you will let the Force guide you in its construction.”

Rey spends three days preparing. The manual mentioned a saberstaff and, despite herself, Rey is intrigued. It would suit her best – it’s what she’s used to – and Luke seems to think it’s a good fit.

The crystals he has are blue and green and yellow; they are thrumming with energy, beautiful in their own right, but they aren’t the purple crystals. They don’t feel _right –_ they don’t feel like they’re _hers,_ the same way the amethyst ones do.

She hates how Kylo Ren has infiltrated even this.

Still, Rey goes with her instincts: she lets the Force guide her, and after fourteen hours of deep meditation, she had constructed her very own saber: a staff, with two amethyst crystals, and a hilt that fit her hand perfectly. Luke approves, and does not mention the purple crystals.

Rey is grateful for that.

It was a month later when Kylo Ren arrived.

Rey senses him as soon as he lands. She is alone on the moon, meditating while Luke does his own drills. She has settled into a quiet, familiar routine with her master, and Kylo Ren’s arrival has thrown a wrench into it.

He’s alone; Rey wonders if Luke had been altered to his arrival.

Rey stands and grips her saberstaff in a white-knuckled grip as he approaches.

He wears a black sleeveless tunic with a utility belt around his waist, and for all intents and purposes looks like smuggler. He has a saber at his hip, but his hand does not go to grip it. His hair is longer than she remembers, held back in a low ponytail. His scar is proud and stark on his face.

Rey holds his gaze as he walks towards her.

“Why are you here?” she asks, when he is within earshot.

“My uncle thought it best if we reconcile.” He ambles towards her, stops when he is a mere three feet in front of her.

Rey narrows her eyes. So Luke _did_ know. Rey wonders if he knows of the extent of their relationship. _Probably,_ she thinks. If Leia knew, if Kylo Ren was here…

“You told me to get out. I did.” Rey shrugs. “I don’t see what more to it there is.”

There is something truly injured on Kylo Ren’s face, but after a split second it’s replaced with anger. “You _lied._ ”

“I didn’t. Leia did.” Rey crosses her arms, juts out her chin and holds his gaze, daring him to glance at her stomach. “She told you what I had thought at the time and didn’t keep you updated on new information. Not that you had a right to know either way.”

“You’re angry with me because you believe I would prioritize a child over you.”

“I’m angry with you for a lot of reasons, Kylo.”

“And you expect me to accept that?”

“I expect you to leave me be.”

He frowns, regards her. “You lied to me. You tricked me into surrendering myself to the resistance, into killing my master, into giving up the life I had spent two decades carving out for myself. _I_ should be angry with _you._ ”

 “I didn’t trick you into anything. You did all of that on your own volition.”

“Under a false pretense,” he counters.

Rey shrugs again. “Go ahead, be angry with me. I _really don’t care.”_

And that’s what Rey had been telling herself these months. _I don’t’ care, I don’t care, I don’t care._

“I don’t believe that,” he says, and turns to leave.

Rey refuses to let his doubt shake her.

.

.

.

To Rey’s dismay, he’s _staying._

Luke is stronger than him, without a doubt, but Rey cannot believe the Resistance would allow such a thing.

She confronts Luke about it. Her mentor chuckles. “He’s not much happier about it, Rey. But Leia is not stupid. He has a tracker chip in his arm. Should he try and exit this planet’s atmosphere, he’ll be electrocuted to death.”

That doesn’t make Rey feel any better.

“Rey,” Luke says, and when he uses that tone Rey knows to take her master seriously, “This is apart of his penance. Before he is exiled.”

Rey can only nod at that; her mouth has gone dry.

Kylo keeps mostly to himself when Luke is not mentoring him. She sees him at mealtimes, but that’s the limit to their interaction.

The first two weeks pass in an uneasy coexistence. Rey does her best to avoid Kylo, and Luke does his best to pretend he can’t cut the tension with a knife, and Kylo does his best to remain scarce.

That is, until he sees Rey with her saberstaff.

Rey had been doing her best to make sure her saber is sheathed around him. She’s constructed it herself, used the crystals that he’d given her. She’d initially wanted to throw them into the ocean and never look back, but…

Her time on Jakku taught her the value of freely-given goods.  Luke had inspected the crystals, had confirmed that they were what she’d need. He hadn’t asked wehre she’d gotten them – Rey had a feeling that he knew.

Kylo’s eyes widened at the purple light emitting from each side of the hilt. Too late, Rey clicked it off, but the damage was done: he’d seen, and he knew, and if he hadn’t already seen through her icy exterior, he was now.

He confronts her after the meal. Rey is heading to a hut she’d claimed as her own. Kylo heads her off, standing before her with his arms crossed over his chest.

Rey is aggressively reminded of how massive he is – head and a half taller than her, broad in the shoulders, powerful at the core. He’s not as intimidating, without his black robes, but he still exudes power.

Rey refuses to be cowed. “What do you want?” she spits, stopping in her tracks.

“You used my crystals.”

“Like you said, they’re hard to come by.”

“You used a nontraditional design, as well,” and he’s grinning, ever so pleased with himself.

Rey narrows her eyes. “I used what I’m used to. It’s more natural than a typical saber.”

“Care to demonstrate?” But he’s already in a stance, red saber activated. He doesn’t move, waits for Rey.

With a sneer, Rey mirrors his stance, saberstaff at the ready.

And they spar.

Rey doesn’t bother to stick to one form or another, instead striking with her full weight, not bothering to care if it’s a kill shot or not. She has Kylo on the defensive – _good –_ and she’ll keep him there, unleashing the pent-up resentment unto him.

She’s projecting – she knows she’s projecting – but she doesn’t care. By the look on his face, he can sense it. _Good._ Let him know. The sense of betrayal cuts deep. The _abandonment._ The feeling of being valued _less_ than a fucking _embryo._

Kylo Ren takes an abrupt step back and frowns, uses the Force to throw Rey’s saberstaff out of her hands. Rey glares at him, opens her mouth to sling a few choice words his way, but he beats her to it.

“Why do you think that – don’t give me that look, you’re projecting _hard –_ I do not _value_ you?”

Rey doesn’t want to have this conversation, not now, not ever. “Shut up!”

“Rey,” he says, and there’s a gravity to her name when it falls from his lips, “I _do._ ”

“No,” Rey shoots back, tears pricking behind her eyes. “No you _don’t._ Stop _lying._ ”

“I’m _not!_ You insufferable child! You are the _most_ important person to me – to think I do not _value_ you just because I returned under extenuating circumstances-“

Her voice shakes when she responds. “Then why wasn’t I enough for you?”

It pains Rey to even say it; this man before her is a monster, a murderer, and she wants to _be enough for him._ It’s almost laughable.

Kylo Ren drops his saber to the ground and takes two steps forward, closing the distance between them. He puts his hands on her shoulders, eyes locking onto hers. “I wasn’t enough for you either, Rey. A child – I wouldn’t leave you to face that alone. Not with Snoke. Not with _anything._ You are more than capable of taking care of yourself. A child infinitely complicates matters. The dreams…not all of them were good, Rey. I wasn’t about to allow Snoke to harm you. Either of you.”

Rey averts her eyes but doesn’t move. He was right – he _wasn’t_ enough for her to abandon her life at the Resistance. But there was more for her there than there was living as a smuggler with him. Couldn’t he see that?

“I never saw a child,” she murmurs. Her eyes are fixed on his throat, unable – and unwilling – to meet his eyes. “Not in any of them.”

“But you saw me.”

“So?”

“Do you not think the dreams were prophetic?”

“I think they were possibilities. Possibilities that have long since been closed to us now.”

His grip on her shoulders loosens, and he steps back. Rey finally has the courage to look up. She cannot read his face.

“I see,” he says, and walks away.

That night, Rey lies awake in her quarters, wondering why Kylo keeps coming back to her. It is dark out, the half moon casting just enough light to see.

So Rey goes for a walk.

The planet is green, and lush, a temperate climate. It’s late summer, almost early fall, and there’s a chill to the air. Rey likes it. It’s a nice change from the desert.

She walks around the Jedi temple aimlessly, letting her legs take her where they will.

Until she runs into Kylo.

She tries to duck back, but too late, he’s sensed her. He looks haggard, tired beyond his years, as if every one of the people he’s killed ghosts’ personally haunt him.

“Rey,” he says, surprised, and Rey has to quell the shiver the rises within her. “Why are you up?”

“I couldn’t sleep,” she says.

“Me neither,” he admits. He hesitates for a moment, then, “Would you walk with me?”

Rey doesn’t say yes, doesn’t say no, but falls into step with him. The top of her head comes up to his shoulder, and she has to walk swiftly to keep up with his strides. Upon noticing this, he slows himself down.

They walk until they reach the river; Kylo slows. Rey matches his pace.

“Rey,” he says, and he sounds so, so tired, “I want to apologize.”

She swallows thickly, not allowing herself to acknowledge the fluttering in her chest. “For what?” Her words are scarcely above a whisper. She is exhausted from hating him – and even if she won’t admit it, she doesn’t hate him, not really.

Rey doesn’t think she could ever hate him.

“I’ve hurt you. I…wanted to apologize for that, before I’m sent away.”

 _Exile._ She looks at him, really looks at him; he’s gazing back at her with big brown calf-eyes. “Our time on Corellia was – is – important to me. I did not intend to make you feel…inferior. Please, Rey, believe that.”

Rey swallows thickly. He’s standing before her, skin looking silver in the moonlight, and face more sincere than she can ever remember it being. “You said you killed Snoke. Is that true?”

He hesitates for a moment, then nods. “It’s what delayed my arrival. I didn’t know if the Resistance would kill me on sight – I wanted Snoke dead first.”

And suddenly, Rey is touched. He knew he might’ve been killed, but he came – and he killed Snoke first, to ensure her – and his child’s – safety.

Tears prick her eyes. Rey wishes she could ignore the bitterness; instead she pushes it aside and tries, for once, to see things from his angle.

“Thank you,” she says. She reaches out and touches his hand, and he seems genuinely startled – yet pleased – at the touch. “You didn’t have to do all of that. I’m sorry for allowing Leia to send the transmission.”

“No, no,” he murmurs, stepping closer. Rey had forgotten how wonderful it felt, to feel the heat roll off him, to feel his hand cradle her cheek. “I wouldn’t allow you to raise a child – our child – alone, Rey. And I wouldn’t allow our child to exist in a world where Snoke did as well.”

“What changed your mind on him? I thought…you seemed devoted, if not to the First Order than to him.”

His thumb brushes along her cheekbone. “I would never allow what Snoke did to me be done to my child. Upon realizing that…I knew I couldn’t be his apprentice. You were right – I had no autonomy. Not under him. My mother…” he trails off, and his eyes get glassy. Rey doesn’t know what to say, so she folds herself into him, wrapping her arms around his trunk and squeezing him tight.

“I missed this,” she says, and her voice sounds small and young, even to her ears. “I missed you.”

His arms come around her like a vice, and Rey thinks she might burst. She’s spent so long being angry and upset and hurt and now she’s exhausted. “I missed you too, Rey. So much.”

Her heart sings at the admission.

He holds her like he may lose her if he does not hold on tight enough; Rey does not mind. For the first time in months, she feels _home._

 _And he’ll be sent away tomorrow._ The realization hits her hard, and Rey thinks, maybe that’s why he’s holding her like that: it may be the last time.

He does not kiss her; Rey makes no move to do the same. They walk back to their quarters in a companionable silence. Along the way, his hand brushes against hers, taking her fingers into his hand. Rey squeezes his fingers, and she watches as he smiles.

She’s missed that smile.

They hesitate as they go back to Rey’s quarters. Kylo is looking at her, and Rey won’t quite meet his eyes. She has a request – one she’s, frankly, too shy to ask.

But if tonight is the last night he’s _here…_

He clears his throat. “I’m glad we’ve cleared the air. Good night, Rey.”

He’s slow to make a move to leave; Rey gathers up the courage, and before she loses it, she says, quickly, “Can you stay? Tonight? Just – hold me?”

His eyes widen. Before he can respond, Rey continues, “I know I have no right to ask – I know it’s selfish, but – I just – “ she’s truly fretting now, wringing her hands, “I want to fall asleep next to you, and wake up next to you, before you’re gone.”

He untangles her hands and folding them within his own. He looks down at their hands – his pale and large, her calloused, tan, and small. “Why the sudden change of heart?”

Rey feels her face go hot, and is suddenly thankful for the darkness. She makes to go. “Never mind. It’s stupid.”

“You’re amazing at misunderstanding me. I did not say no.”

“You didn’t say yes, either.”

“Rey.” He heaves her name with a sigh. “Indulge my curiosity.”

“I told you. I missed you. I missed…this.”

“You missed my touch, you mean.” There’s an accusatory tone in his voice.

Rey deflates. “I told you, it’s stupid. And selfish.” But that’s her nature, isn’t it? Growing up a scavenger, she had to learn to be selfish, to indulge herself when she could – she’d never know the next time something good would come her way. She opens the door to her quarters, turns to face Kylo. “Good night,” she says, and she doesn’t look back.

She doesn’t want him to see her tears.

She’s halfway to her bed when strong arms encircle her and she’s pulled flush to Kylo’s chest. “You’re not stupid,” he whispers, his hair tickling against the nape of her neck. “I missed you, Rey. I thought…I didn’t think it would be this bad. I only wish you’d asked sooner.”

“I was pissed at you,” Rey tells him, blinking away tears.

“I know,” and his voice is infinitely gentle. He spins her around, presses a chaste kiss to her forehead. “And I’m sorry. But I will stay, Rey. I want to stay. Truthfully, I’m overjoyed you’d even asked.”

Rey leans against him, eyes fluttering closed. This wasn’t for forever – she could never think in terms of forever – but for tonight…

For tonight…

This was perfect.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh god, this is late. This is so beyond overdue. I'm so sorry. I mean, jesus. I'm glad some of you asked for this, it was the perfect nudge I needed to finish. 
> 
> That being said...enjoy.

The predawn hours came, and Rey wakes to an empty bed. She isn’t surprised – she shouldn’t be surprised – but there is a deep well of emptiness inside of her. She sits up, the blankets pooling around her waist, and she hugs herself.

She misses him.

She nearly crumbles under the weight of it all.

Rey takes a deep, steadying breath, and tentatively reaches out with the Force.

_He’s still on the island._

The realization hits her and she’s leaping out of bed, not bothering with shoes or day clothes, only just remembering to grab her saber before she runs. The dew-damp grass is slick under her feet and the mud is squished between her toes but she doesn’t care.

She finds him waiting at the top of a plateau. He’s wearing his robes and has a somber air about him. He’s sitting facing east, his hair blowing gently in the wind.

Kylo doesn’t move when she arrives – and he must’ve heard her approach, all frantic breathing and cursing when she cut her foot on the stone. Some unfamiliar feeling bubbles within Rey’s chest, threatening to spill over.

“You shouldn’t have come,” he says, before Rey can even articulate what she’s feeling.

 “You shouldn’t have left,” Rey counters. He still doesn’t turn to face her. Rey makes no move to go near him. The air is tense and heavy, and Rey feels like she’s intruding.

She steels herself for his reply, and when none is forthcoming she pads over to him on too-sensitive feet. His shoulders tense as she approaches, and he shifts, but not before Rey saw it – the blood all over his bare forearm. In his hand is a microchip, still intact.

Her eyes go wide. “You – you –Kylo-“

“Like you’d do any different,” he scoffs, and Rey goes quiet. He was right – she’d sooner cut her own arm off than be forced to stay somewhere against her will.

She spent too much time waiting on a deserted planet to ever do it again.

“It’s exile or execution. I don’t find myself fond of either.” Kylo stands, body unfolding until he’s at his full height. Rey’s tall for a woman, and she’s not used to having to crane her neck back to look at him. She wonders if Leia, short as she is, ever felt dwarfed and intimidated by her own son.

 _Probably not,_ Rey reasons. Leia had more steel to her than that.

Rey stared at him, unsure of what to say. “I guess you’ll be leaving then,” Rey finds herself saying. She’s not sure what’s going on inside of her, this feeling, this _emptiness,_ like her feelings are being uprooted and tossed away. She swallows hard, and desperately tries to find something, _anything,_ that isn’t dismissive.

Nothing comes.

“You don’t seem too concerned either way.”

She is, oh she is, but how can she give voice to it? The words wither and die in her throat. They’ve parted, reunited, only for him to leave _again._ She’s the world’s biggest hypocrite and she has nobody but herself to blame for getting into this mess. If she’d just kept in touch with him, tried to meet him halfway, maybe…

 _He didn’t exactly try to meet you halfway either_ , she reminds herself.

She takes too long to reply, and he must’ve given up on hearing one. He sighs. “I’m leaving, Rey. Please don’t try to stop me.”

“Where will you go?”

“Places people don’t know me. Somewhere I can be at peace.”

“What will you do?” Suddenly she’s desperate to know; he’s going to leave, about to be wrenched from her – it’s real, the leaving, the never-coming-back, and Rey’s chest aches with the fear of it.

He shrugs. “I’m a good pilot. I’ll probably do errands for rich Hutts, or fix ships. Something…under the radar.” He glances behind him, at the gold line that’s just appearing above the horizon. “I should leave soon. Their due to get me at noon and I want to have a head start.”

Rey swallows past the lump in her throat. “Will I ever see you again?”

His eyes soften. “You know you don’t have to ask that.”

Rey wants to reply that no, she didn’t know that, but she’s too caught up in the overwhelming relief that washes over her. The sun was creeping up over the horizon blurring his edges and framing him in gold. Rey had to squint to look at him right. He’s holding his arms out ever-so-slightly, and Rey takes the five steps forward and buries her face in his chest. He holds her to him, tight, and Rey has to struggle to not cry.

He kisses the top of her head. “Just say the word.”

Rey squeezes him tight and takes another moment to revel in his embrace. But then she’s acutely aware of the cuts on her feet, and the fact that he needs to leave, and that if he doesn’t get out of there before the escort showed up he’d be gone forever, and –

“Relax,” Kylo murmurs, stroking her hair. He takes a step back but keeps his hands at her waist. “Once I’m away, I’ll comm you. I already rigged Luke’s X-Wing – they won’t be able to track it. You can come visit, then. If you want.”

Rey gives a small smile at that. “I’d like that.”

He helps her back, carrying her almost the entire way back to her little hut so she wouldn’t cut her feet even more. She clung to his back as he scaled down the plateau; once her house was in view, he shifted her in his arms to a bridal carry, and she wrapped her hands around his neck and wormed her way up to kiss his cheek.

Kylo set her down gently, and Rey had to stop herself from following him as he made his escape.

Noon hits, and when his escorts cannot finds the chip atop the plateau – and no Kylo – they question both Rey and Luke.

Luke knows – surely, he must know – but he doesn’t say anything.

A month later, when Rey makes her first trip off-planet, he wishes her a good trip, and to say hello to his nephew for him.

* * *

She meets Kylo on Corellia, in the same cantina they’d dined in months ago. His hair is longer, pulled back into a low ponytail. He wears a dark gray vest over black tunic and pants. His saber is clipped to his hip, looking like just another tool in a utility belt.

Smuggling looks good on him.

It’s all Rey can do to resist running into his arms, but she doesn’t want to risk drawing attention to him. So she walks up to him as calmly as she can, and he stands and greets her with a kiss, and they talk and laugh their way through dinner.

“I missed you,” Kylo admits on their walk back to his ship. _Phantom II,_ it was called, and it bore and uncanny resemblance to the _Falcon._

Rey gives his hand a squeeze. “Me too.”

The interior of the _Phantom II_ was mostly utilitarian. But the bed…

It was nothing special, really. Standard ship-mattress, attached to the wall, able to fold up to create more storage space.

But it was bigger than normal – _just like her dream._

Upon seeing it, Rey stops. She hasn’t had those dreams in months – she’d nearly forgotten about them.

Kylo comes up behind her and hugs her, kisses her shoulder. “I thought…for us.”

Tears prick her eyes – she’s touched.

Rey turns around in his arms and kisses him on the mouth, and then they’re both projecting so forcefully it’s hard to tell where her sentiments end and his begin; there’s joy and euphoria, promises and hope, _please forgive me_ and _I’ll never leave,_ and _oh god, is this what love is –_

They pull apart, breathing heavy. Rey meets his eyes, unsure what to say. Had that been her? Him? Did it matter? Wasn’t this love anyway, this promise between them? But oh, what was love? How did you love like _that,_ in terms of forever? But Rey felt it burn in her chest, bubble over and the words came tumbling out of her mouth, but something must’ve been lost between her teeth because it comes out as a whisper: “I love you.”

And there’s a split second where she’s terrified, but small tendrils of his consciousness worm their way into hers and open up, and there’s a massive well of it, of that _love,_ that’s been hidden away.

“Don’t be afraid,” he murmurs. “I feel it, too.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SO I'M SUPER NERVOUS HERE, because it's short. i have that feeling, like after you leave a test or an interview, and you're all like, "I either failed that miserably or aced it beyond all measure" and this is the first time I'm /really ending/ a story. 
> 
> I really, really hope it didn't disappoint. 
> 
> Thank you all for reading, reviewing, and kudos-ing, and bookmarking. It's been fun <3

**Author's Note:**

> Let me know what you guys think :)


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